Miss Ann Says

thoughts from everyday life
Miss Ann Says
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    • Living in NYC

      Posted at 12:45 pm by missannsays, on January 18, 2020

      I have lived in Brooklyn for over a year now. Mass transit isn’t as a big a mystery as it first was. Platforms where the train is on both sides still make my heart beat faster because finding something to lean against is tricky. Ordering coffee – black, no sweetener, leave room works in most establishments. Then I fix it myself. Sometimes I add half and half, other times I leave it black. What a medium is called does take a quick glance at their menu. However, the one thing that I still don’t have a handle on, the one question I can’t seem to get an answer to is how to navigate the homeless?

      My apologies if that sounded cold. But I really want to know what is the proper or right thing to do? Is the person sitting on the street a different etiquette than the person begging on the train? Is the male veteran different than the young woman? What about the person with the dog? In conversation with friends and family, I have heard don’t give to anyone, carry gift cards, carry granola bars.

      A few months ago I decided I had to come up with my own strategy. So this is my current plan – I go with my gut and a couple of my own guidelines. Since the MTA says not to give to people begging on the train, I don’t. But if you are a singer, musician or dancer and you entertained me for part of my ride, yes, I give you some cash. I don’t carry gift cards because that seems rather presumptuous of me. I do carry cash and try to remember to stick a couple of five dollar bills in my coat pocket so I don’t have to open my purse. But I still feel bad and overwhelmed by the number of people who are on the street. So I am asking the same question again, how do I navigate the homeless? What am I as a white, female living in NYC suppose to do?

      Posted in Uncategorized | 4 Comments
    • More than slogans

      Posted at 7:00 am by missannsays, on September 11, 2019

      Never forget

      On September 11, 2001, 19 terrorist highjacked 4 American passenger planes and flew them into the first and second tallest buildings in New York City, the Pentagon, and a field in Shanksville, PA. On that day 2977 people were murdered. Thousands of people saw things no one is ever supposed to see. We experienced the worst humanity and the best of humanity on that day.

      But also

      Always remember

      Since September 11, 2001, thousands of first responders, recovery workers, downtown residents and survivors have contracted 9/11 related illness. More NYPD officers have died since that fateful day of 9/11 related illness than died on September 11, 2001. The FDNY lost 343 on September 11 and have lost 200 since September 11. 

      We have waged a war on terror that has cost the lives of 7,000 American soldiers and sailors as well as 362 journalists, and 622 humanitarian/NGO workers. 

      It isn’t over. 

      Today, I pray for the families of those who died. I remember those who were ever changed by what they experienced either on that day, or during the recovery or because of their military service.  May our slogans and prayers be more than just words. 

      God bless America.

      Posted in respect in the real world, September 11, then & now, Uncategorized | 2 Comments
    • A September 11 story

      Posted at 8:02 pm by missannsays, on September 10, 2019

      At the conclusion of my walking tours, I tell people that after September 11, 2001, I received hundreds of cards and that’s not an exaggeration. Cards that were addressed to the family of Firefighter Van Hine, Greenwood Lake, NY without even a zip code, let alone a street address. People found that information in their newspapers. Those cards included crayon drawings from five year olds, bookmarks made by teens, beaded bracelets strung by grandmas, promises of prayers, and messages of condolences. Each of those cards made a difference in my life. I offer words of encouragement to my tour guests that as they hear of devastating events in their nation or neighborhood caused by terrorist or tsunamis to do something because intentional acts of kindness make a difference. I am the recipient of that kind of kindness.

      Recently I received the following email:

      Dear Ann,
      My name is Kimberly H. I was five years old on 9/11 and begged my mom to let me mail a teddy bear to someone who had been affected by the attacks, and it ended up reaching you. You sent me a thank you card and stuffed animal the following Christmas. 
      I am traveling to NYC for my first time ever July 12-16 (leaving the morning of the 16th). I was wondering if it would be possible to arrange a walking tour of the memorial with you as my tour guide? I have held on to the card and stuffed dog you sent me over the years and reflect on your act of kindness often. It would be wonderful to meet you in person!
      I look forward to hearing from you.
      Kimberly H

      I was pleasantly surprised and responded with dates that I could lead a tour. Kimberly, her mom and two sisters joined a tour. I asked Kimberly’s permission to share her story as part of my acts of kindness story at the end of that tour and today in this post.

      In the days following September 11, 2001, Kimberly begged her mom to send someone a teddy bear. Her mom honored her daughter’s wish and contacted the Lamb’s Church of the Nazarene in NYC to see if they could help her get a bear to someone. Years earlier Kimberly’s mom had been part of a missions trip with Lamb’s Church. Pastor John Bowen forwarded that bear to me.

      In December 2001, I sent Kimberly a thank you note for the bear and sent her a stuffed dog. My note to her stated:

      Dearest Kimberly,

      Thank you for the beautiful picture you made. Pastor John Bowen sent me (& my daughters) your note and the very huggable bear that you had sent to the Lamb’s Church of the Nazarene. My husband was one of the firefighters that perished at the World Trade Center. We know he is with Jesus and God is so faithfully meeting our needs. Having a special teddy to hug has been a big help. Thank you in Jesus’ love, Ann Van Hine”

      Dog and note I sent Kimberly in 12/01

      In an email from Kimberly after we met she wrote:

      Ann,

      Thank you so much for getting us on your tour. It was wonderful to finally meet you and learn more about your story and Bruce’s life. 

      Thank you again for reaching out that Christmas of 2001, during a time that I’m sure was incredibly difficult for you. You taught a little girl that small acts of kindness do matter- even in the face of unspeakable tragedy. 
      I hope you enjoy the pictures!
      Kim

      I share this story because kindness makes a difference. Kimberly’s kindness to me caused me to express gratitude to her. She thinks I taught her something but it is Kimberly who taught me.

      Posted in kid stuff, September 11, Uncategorized | 6 Comments
    • Teaching 9/11

      Posted at 12:34 pm by missannsays, on August 23, 2019

      Eighteen years out from the attacks many of this year’s college freshmen were born after September 11, 2001. 9/11 is in the history books but we lived it. Please take the time to share your story with the children and young people in your life. Of course being age appropriate and focusing on the way people helped people and what helped you.

      Through volunteering with the 911 Tribute Museum, I have spoken to many students. Some of them while standing in their classrooms, or via the internet, or when they visited the 911 Tribute Museum with their school or parents. It is always a joy to interact with students but it is an incredibly taunting experience. I want them to learn of the September 11 attacks, the rescue and rebuilding but I don’t want them to be afraid or to hate. I wish there was nothing to teach them.

      In the past couple of months, two families on my walking tour included children who had asked their parents to visit the Memorial Plaza. One was a nine year old girl from New Jersey who had read I Survived The Attacks Of September 11 by Lauren Tarshis. We had a lovely conversation after the tour about that book. I told her I had met a young man who had skipped school on September 11 and got a bigger adventure than he bargained for. Another was an eighth grader from the midwest who learned about 9/11 in school and asked if this year their family vacation could be to NYC instead of Disney World. Thank you kiddos for wanting to come and thank you parents for bringing them.

      There is also a disturbing thing that has happened in the past couple of months. Twice after telling my personal story in the 911 Tribute Museum galleries young men have approached me to engage in a conversation about conspiracy theories. I am glad they are thinking and questioning but know your sources. The internet is an amazing tool but let’s be careful out there.

      Below are some links to resources and other posts I have written about my experiences teaching. Any questions, please reach out to me via the comment section or FB Miss Ann Says page.

      https://missannsays.com/?s=channeling+Corrie+Ten+Boom

      https://missannsays.com/2016/10/24/2395/

      https://missannsays.com/2015/09/09/teaching-children-about-september-11-2001/

      Lesson plans for teachers:

      https://www.911day.org/lesson-plans

      https://teaching911.911tributemuseum.org

      https://www.911memorial.org/lesson-plans

      Books:

      https://www.scholastic.com/teachers/books/i-survived-the-attacks-of-september-11-2001-by-lauren-tarshis/

      https://www.commonsensemedia.org/lists/kids-books-about-911

      https://www.romper.com/p/8-childrens-books-about-september-11-to-educate-kids-about-the-tragedy-gently-11864777

      Documentaries – different pieces of the story:

      The Trees by Scott Elliot available on Amazon and other streaming services.
      Full disclosure I am in this documentary

      On September 11, 2019, You Are Here a Canadian documentary about the planes landing in Gander, Newfoundland will be shown all over the USA for the first and maybe only time. https://www.fathomevents.com/events/you-are-here

      Two interesting books on the Gander 9/11 story are:

      The Day the World Came to Town: 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland by Jim DeFede.

      Channel of Peace: Stranded in Gander on 9/11 by Kevin Tuerff.

      Come from Away is a Broadway musical on the same subject. it is excellent.

      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged 911 Tribute Museum, September 11, telling the next generation
    • The NY subway & me

      Posted at 4:34 pm by missannsays, on February 14, 2019

      I don’t know if you can teach an old dog new tricks but I do know that as a woman of a certain age I am still capable of learning new things. The last few months have proven that to be true. My approach to learning something new is not necessarily the way the younger set would learn or do it but if the result is the same what does it matter. If I need a paper map to get a sense of the area, then buy a paper map. Barnes ‘n Noble still sells them.

      My move to NYC forced caused me to learn to use mass transit. I have ridden the Underground in London, the light rail is Seattle, the trains and subway in Japan, the Metro in DC but the prospect of using the NYC subway system terrified me. Mostly because I don’t understand how it works and on cop shows someone is always pushed in front of a train.

      In my teens and young adult years, travel into Manhattan from Bergen County, NJ was via the Shortline Bus to The Port Authority then walk or catch the 8th Avenue bus uptown to dance class. The use of the subway was forbidden by my parents, my Dad insisted “NO SUBWAY!” which looking back was the right call because the subways of the 1970’s were an entirely different beast than today. As an adult, the easiest way from Orange County to Manhattan was to drive so that is what I did for years. Now living in Brooklyn it was time to put my big girl pants on and do this.

      Back in the early fall after a day with city friends, they decided I needed to do an escorted ride on the subway as a way to get back to my car. Actually I was going to walk the many blocks but “they” said

      “if you are moving here you have to learn the trains.”

      “No!?! Really, I can walk. I don’t have a metro card.”

      “I have an extra and J is going the same direction.”

      Oh, no, this is happening. J is a true New Yorker so she realized the train we needed was at the platform and started walking faster and faster. I struggled to keep up. She got to the train as the door was closing and pushed it open like some kind of superhero. “Come on. Get in.” Being crushed by the door is a fear of mine but I said a little prayer and dove in. Even in your 60’s peer pressure can be a positive motivator. J reminded me she was getting off at the next stop and I should go one more stop and get off.

      “Just get your bearings when you get to the street so you don’t walk in the wrong direction.”

      Alrighty, then. I made it to my car. Drove home. Later emailed friends to let them know I appreciated the test run. Okay, all of that was just a little background information to set up my learning mass transit story.

      Fast forward a few weeks and it is now the time to do this! My daughter instructed me to use the map app on my phone for directions. She added me to Find Friends. I think she wasn’t sure Mom can do this. I read and reread the directions because I didn’t want to look at the them on the train. Don’t want to look like a newbe. By the way most people are looking at their phones while on the train. I had my metro card. Of course I didn’t swipe it fast enough so I couldn’t get through the turnstile. Calm down and do it again. Once on the platform I stood with my back to the wall acting like a confident New Yorker. Oh, my! What was I thinking? Breathe. The train arrived I got on, I got off. It was all good. I was proud of myself. Slowly over the next few days/weeks I learned a few things:

      1. The platform you get off the train isn’t the one you will get back on the train. I know that should be obvious but it was an aha moment for me.
      2. The subway system is actually well marked. Reading the signs is helpful, really helpful.
      3. UP in a subway elevator means Upper Platform not up.
      4. I don’t like platforms that have trains coming on both sides because there is no wall to stand against. There is usually a beam, bench or garbage can that can be a substitute wall.
      5. If I get on the wrong train, I can get off at the next stop and find the right train. I won’t be stuck riding it forever like Charlie in that M.T.A. song from when I was a kid. Anyway, he was in Boston not New York.
      6. There are some interesting people so I need to be aware not afraid. Well maybe a little afraid.
      7. People will offer me a seat which does make me feel old but grateful.
      8. If I follow the directions, it isn’t that hard to add money to a metro card or even get a new one.
      9. Those subway system apps are very useful.
      10. When the guy announces “mind the gap as you exit” I won’t need to do a grand jete to make it across, hopefully just a bigger step and a little prayer will suffice.

      “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” CS Lewis

      What new thing would you like to conquer? I would love to know.

      Take care. Be well. Serve others.

      Hugs, Ann

      Photo by Fancycrave.com on Pexels.com

      FYI: I haven’t seened an empty train. There is usually lots of people. All kinds of people which makes it a great experience. I love people watching.

      Posted in daily life, memories | 0 Comments | Tagged NYC
    • Posted at 12:49 pm by missannsays, on January 30, 2019

      The question had been asked before “why don’t you move here?” Here, being New York City. It was on December 26, 2017 that I decided to answer that question for myself instead of laughing it off. Why don’t I move here? Why don’t I move here? Why don’t I move here? The question morphed into what was keeping me in Greenwood Lake? I mean I had responsibilities at church and taught one ballet class but that commitment was up in June 2017. I had amazing neighbors and great friends but was all that enough to stay. A friend commented “you don’t really live in Greenwood Lake, you sleep there.” True statement. After thought and prayer, the answer I got was nothing. Not really nothing but nothing that couldn’t be changed or wouldn’t last if I moved. But first I needed to know my daughters’ thoughts on selling their childhood home. They were okay with it. It turns out one of my son-in-law’s had been wondering for years – why does your mom still live in Greenwood Lake?”

      Selling a house I had lived in for thirty-five years was a taunting task. Remembering the saying how do you eat an elephant – one bite at a time, I started cleaning out. That monthly card or email from Big Brother/Big Sister or the Vietnam Veterans kept me on track. Do I have time to get together one bag or maybe four boxes by the time they would be “in my neighborhood?” Scheduling that first pick up was a small step but it got the ball rolling. By June 2018, I put the house on the market. A post it note on my computer screen stating PACK SOMETHING kept me filling boxes and sorting items. Trips to local thrift stores, giving unneeded furniture to friends, placing random items at the curb, posts on FB marketplace, etc allowed me to donate or sell items. The biggest obstacles were the attic which was full of Berenstain Bear books, American Girl dolls, Beanie Babies, Hess trucks, and September 11 items from all over the world and the basement/garage that housed tools from Bruce. My daughters sorted through their treasures and also decided which of Bruce’s things would be treasures. Shelving added to the basement at the Cabin allowed for storage of said treasures. The junkman took care of the rest.

      I started looking online for apartments. Oh, my! What neighborhood? Studio or one bedroom? Doorman? Price? More prayer and pondering and then an aha moment. In April 2018, I asked my daughter and son-in-law, who lived in Brooklyn, if they wanted to pool resources for a better neighborhood and larger space with the understanding I won’t be there full time. Yes, was their answer. After a few more conversations, my daughter set out to find us an apartment in Brooklyn. My requests for the apartment were I would have my own room, could get into Manhattan easily, and it was a safe neighborhood to walk alone on the street at a responsible hour. I am grateful that my daughter did all the legwork and found us a good space in a beautiful area.

      I moved out of my house in October. Grateful to have a weekend house aka the Cabin to move stuff to. The sale of my house fell through at the last moment but that is a story for another day. The apartment in Brooklyn was available November 1. Well it was sort of available, the kitchen wasn’t done (or even started). Again thankfully I had my cabin in PA. My daughter and son-in-law were basically camping in the apartment as they had to be out of their other apartment. All of that is also a story for another day.

      But for now, I wonder what is the question you laugh off? Maybe it is time to ask yourself that question? I’m glad I did. Stories of my NYC adventures to follow. Definitely a learning curve when it comes to planes, trains and automobiles in NYC.

      Take care. Be well. Serve Others.

      Hugs, Ann

      Posted in daily life | 4 Comments Read On →
    • a peek into Chapter 4

      Posted at 8:00 am by missannsays, on September 30, 2018

      No Surprises: navigating tragedy with faith, family and the FDNY

      Chapter 4 CSI (first draft unedited)

      There were times since the attacks I felt like I had been cast in an episode of CSI – Crime Scene Investigation. The problem was I didn’t know my lines but everyone else knew theirs. I hadn’t even auditioned for the part, but I was cast in the role. It felt like the whole world was watching and expecting a brilliant performance, but I hadn’t seen the script. It was outside my realm of knowledge and experience. All those acting and dancing lessons from my youth weren’t going to help. This was real life even though it didn’t feel like my life.

      Besides a new role, I had a new name – Mrs. Van Hine. When Bruce and I married I added Van Hine to my name, so my legal name became Ann Collette Clark-Van Hine. I had already owned my studio for five years when I got married. Actually, I met Bruce and started my own business on the very same day in September of 1975. At my studio, I was Ann Clark aka Miss Ann. Even at church I was Miss Ann. Bruce was more likely to be called Mr. Clark than I was to be called Mrs. Van Hine. But now I was Mrs.Van Hine, FDNY widow.

      Filing a missing person’s report was something I never thought I would do. But nevertheless, a NYPD detective came to the house to deliver the forms. He was the father of a former classmate of Emily’s. Completing the forms was a task Christine and I tackled one morning while the girls were at school. Name, age, height, weight, social security number, tattoos were the easy questions to answer. Scars and whether ear lopes were attached or not took focused thought that I was struggling to achieve.

      Gathering DNA evidence was another thing on the list of things I never imagined I would have to do. Bruce’s toothbrush, a dirty t-shirt and a comb were passed along to be used as possible sources of his DNA. Squad 41 also supplied items from his locker at the firehouse for DNA evidence. After the meeting on September 18, Emily and I visited a local lab to have our cheeks swabbed to supply our DNA as a way of determining Bruce’s DNA. Task complete or so I thought.

      Fast forward to January 2002 and a letter from the medical examiner’s office requesting further DNA caused confusion and anger. The letter suggested items which may contain DNA such as toothbrush, comb, clothing and chewed gum. What? Chewed gum! After four months, I have a piece of chewed gum laying around. Are you kidding me? My quick angry telephone call to the medical examiner’s office was met by apologizes and realization on their part that using the standard DNA request form after four months had been a wrong choice. It was suggested that a parent’s DNA would help with identification, but I wasn’t asking my mother-in-law. No parent should have to supply DNA samples to identify their child especially an 80-year-old. It was bad enough that my 17-year-old daughter gave DNA samples back in September. A call to Christine asking her to investigate what happened brought clarity to the issue. After a few telephone calls, she found that in the aftermath of the attacks two DNA databases had been established – a state one and a city one. Christine was able to get the information/samples we had submitted to the right source. Side note: I felt badly about my nasty phone call to the medical examiner’s office. I realized these were extraordinary circumstances, but I hope we can always error on the side of the families and be aware that asking for chewed gum after 4 months isn’t helpful. Taking the time to simply create a new form would have saved me and many others further stress.

      There were practical issues that needed to be addressed. Bruce’s car was at the firehouse in the Bronx. Parking is always at a premium in the city, I understood having Bruce’s car just hanging out in the Bronx wasn’t helpful to Squad 41. I knew they weren’t going to ask me to move it, so I asked Pastor Steve to arrange to get Bruce’s car back to Greenwood Lake. On Friday September 14, Pastor Steve and Rod, who was not only a fellow church member and friend, but NYPD ESU police officer traveled into the Bronx to get the car. They brought not only the car home but also Bruce’s wallet, watch and wedding ring.

      Pastor Steve shared the details of their visit to Squad 41 – how the firefighters welcomed them, served them coffee and told stories. He was moved by the respect shown to Bruce’s personal items and even demonstrated how he was handed the wallet, watch and wedding ring. The wallet held in two hands with the watch and wedding ring balanced on top. Almost like presenting the rings in a wedding ceremony. He was deeply touched by the entire experience.

      I was grateful the car was home and even more grateful for the personal items. I hadn’t given much thought to his ring or watch but when I saw them I remembered Bruce telling me that they (firefighters) leave their personal items in their locker when responding to a fire. I eventually had my and Bruce’s wedding rings sized to fit Emily and Meghan. I wore the anniversary ring Bruce had given me on my left ring finger. I felt that our marriage ended with his death, but our love continued. In the course of time, I stopped wearing even the anniversary ring. Wearing that ring on my left-hand lead to questions that had awkward answers. Unfortunately, the ring didn’t fit on my right hand.

       

      FYI: Last glimpse into book for awhile. I am preparing a book proposal.  Thank you for reading. If you are interested in reading more, please subscribe to receive posts by email or visit and like my FB page  Miss Ann Says.

      Posted in daily life, faith, September 11 | 2 Comments
    • conclusion of Chapter 3

      Posted at 8:00 am by missannsays, on September 29, 2018

      No Surprises: navigating tragedy with faith, family and the FDNY

      Chapter 3 Manhattan, Meetings and Memorials  (First draft unedited)

      Saturday morning Pastor Steve stopped by to say, “he was going for it.” Translation he was going to speak about salvation, faith, the gospel message. I knew Bruce would have wanted that. This was the time to show in words and actions what we truly believed. This was the “if we truly believe what we say believe it better be different” moment.  The service was scheduled for 2pm. The 15-passenger van came in handy. We picked up my parents and hung out at their house for a little while because we couldn’t arrive too early for the service. Things needed to be in place before we arrived. I, however, just want to get it over with.

      When we arrived at Maranatha a huge American flag hung between two fire department ladder trucks. Firefighters were starting to gather. We waited in Pastor Charlie’s office with those who were speaking. When I realized I left my Bible in the van, Pastor Charlie handed me his and I was struck by the realization that he was one for many years who “gave me the Bible” each and every week. There was a sense of profound gratitude and comfort. It was awkward just hanging out waiting to start the service. Everyone had already expressed their condolences and small talk seemed inappropriate.

      We were escorted into the sanctuary while Jon Werking played the prelude.  I wanted to look around to see who was there but that seemed improper.

      The firefighters who had been waiting outside filed in to take their seats. Almost immediately someone started clapping. Eventually Jon stopped playing as everyone was standing and clapping for the firefighters.  My heart broke for the firefighters as the stress of the last weeks was evident on their faces. The honor guard processed carrying the various flags. The congregation sang “The Church’s One Foundation” led by Pastor Steve and the worship team from my home church. I love that hymn. The words speak such truth and there was a special memory from June 2001 attached to it.  When we attended the Sunday morning worship service at General Assembly for the Church of the Nazarene along with 20,000 other believers, all the words for the choruses had been projected on the screens except for the last song “The Church’s One Foundation.”  The assumption was everyone knew the words to that hymn. It is considered a standard in the church. The only problem was my girls didn’t know it. Bruce and I were shocked.  What do you mean you never heard that song before? We related the story to Pastor Steve who was equally dismayed but also realized that “we” hadn’t been singing those old standards in church that was quickly remedied. Hymns began to appear in the song list on Sundays.

      Pastor Steve welcomed everyone saying, “we were here today to remember Richard Bruce Van Hine, who was a husband, father, brother, son, faithful friend, member of the greatest fire department in the world, committed church member and most importantly a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ.”  That set the tone for the rest of the service. The clergy who spoke were all those who had spoken truth into our lives through the years. These were men and women who knew Bruce.

      Pastor Jerry besides being a pastor had been a member of the FDNY for 30 years. He and Bruce hadn’t been on the department at the same time, but that brotherhood bond was real. He was visibly shaken and said, “I am hurting today.”

      Pastor Maureen Garcia, my mentor and friend, shared a George McDonald quote:

       

      “…Instead of asking yourself whether you believe or not, ask yourself whether you have this day done one thing because He said, Do it, or once abstained because He said, Do not do it. It is simply absurd to say you believe, or even want to believe, in Him, if you do not do anything He tells you…”

       

      Dr. Dale Noel, a gentle and unassuming church friend, who had been a hiking buddy of Bruce’s offered a beautiful prayer. As part of the prayer he quoted 2 Timothy 4:7 – “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” Pastor Steve would later mention those same verses and personalize them – “Bruce fought the fight, Bruce finished the race, Bruce kept the faith.”

      Charlie and Craig offered words of tribute. Charlie mentioned he had only known Bruce for five years, but it felt like he had always known him. It seemed as they lived parallel lives as they both had started tree businesses in the 1970’s. Charlie spoke of tree work, hiking, firefighting and faith. He got a laugh from stating “in the fire department we say to be abused is to be loved. Bruce was definitely loved.”  Charlie included 1 Thessalonians 4 – “make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.”  I smiled when I heard him quote those verses as he didn’t know they were a favorite of mine. Sometimes little tattletales need to hear “did you know mind your own business is in the Bible?”

      Craig had actually always known Bruce. Bruce’s parents and Craig’s parents had been friends since the 1930’s. Craig and Bruce grew up together. Craig introduced me to Bruce. Craig spoke of Bruce as a loyal friend and a keeper of secrets. If you told Bruce something in confidence Bruce didn’t repeat it.

      Then it was my turn to speak, I walked to the platform trying not to make eye contact with anyone. There was a coin imprinted in the podium and rubbing my finger over it felt real, felt solid.

      “To the firefighters, thank you for how you have cared for us. To the firefighters’ wives and girlfriends, we need to sit and have tea, soon. To my friends and family, I want to say I have no regrets. To my church family, thank you and I think I have gained a few pounds. Different thoughts have come to mind as I thought about what I wanted to say but I haven’t written anything down. Here goes. This past June, we went on a family trip to Indianapolis for General Assembly for the Church of the Nazarene. I had the opportunity to go to General Assembly four years ago and I knew if I was afforded the opportunity to go again I wanted all of us to go. So, we decided to make it a family adventure. The only problem became Meghan’s eighth grade graduation was Tuesday and I needed to be in Indianapolis on Wednesday. So, we made it an adventure and drove overnight. I can tell you two things – it was very dark and there are lots of big trucks. I had printed out my schedule and possible schedules for the girls and Bruce. I had a plan. Within hours the girls and Bruce had a different plan. I was disappointed and as I prayed the still small voice of God said “I told you to get them here. I didn’t tell you to plan their days.” So, we decided that dinners and evening service were together.  And we had the best time. I believe the same is true for today Bruce got you here. Personally, I would have preferred a different way to get you here. We showed you God. And what you do with that is your business. God is a gentleman. He will never force his way in. We showed you love. The Bible says God is love. So, you have seen God.”

      I returned to my sit during a standing ovation. Pastor Steve would give a sermon entitled “prepared in and out of season” in which he gave a strong Gospel message. One more song and the Benediction concluded the worship service. Pastor Steve invited the two city officials to read the letters from the Mayor and the Governor. I got my wish the mayor wasn’t present. Not because I told him not to come but because there were so many funerals. The two gentlemen I ran into at Squad 41 were present. They were very respectful of our wishes and I appreciated that. Before the colors were retired Captain Vomero of Squad 41, presented Emily with a Memorial Firefighter helmet and Charlie handed Meghan Bruce’s dress hat. Years ago, Meghan had secretly added a piece of paper to the inside of Bruce’s hat so that when he took it off at functions he would see it. It said, “I love you Dad” and was signed Megs.

      Captain Vomero instructed the firefighters to file out and again there was a standing ovation and thunderous applause. And then Emily, Meghan and I walked out the side door followed by my family. I felt like I was leading a parade. There was a silence that you could almost hear. As I walked around to the front of the church the firefighters stood in formation, I heard only one sound my heels on the pavement. The firefighters stared straight ahead I offered a weak smile. There were people standing across the street, but the silence was what filled my mind. How can it be so quiet? Midland Avenue is a busy street.  Silence except for my heels on the pavement. There was no bag piper. I decided I couldn’t do the bag piper that would have been the thing that sent me over the cliff. We reentered the church through a downstairs walkway for the reception. Cheesecake from the Bronx and coffee Bruce’s favorites.

      Days before the service, Emily, Meghan and I came up with a code phrase just in case things got weird. We didn’t even know what that meant but felt it was a good idea to have a phrase. Our phrase was “Bubble moment.” You know how in comics there is a bubble above the person’s head not the dialogue bubbles, but the what I am really thinking or the what were you thinking when you just said that bubbles. If Emily or Meghan needed my immediate attention no matter where we were or what was happening “Bubble moment” was all they had to say. Thankfully my daughters’ friends from school, camp and church attended to be their support system as I navigated greeting people. There were no bubble moments just amazement at the number of people who attended and the distances they had traveled to be at the service. Friends drove up from South Carolina and were driving back following the service.

      The postcards gave us a true sense of who had attended. Many were placed in the basket and many more arrived in the mail for weeks. The fact that people took the time to share stories and encouragement wasn’t lost on us.

      The reality that our personal loss was part of something so much bigger was reenforced by the fact excerpts of the Bruce’s memorial service aired on the evening news and were mentioned in the newspaper.

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

      Posted in daily life, faith, September 11, Uncategorized | 1 Comment
    • a little more of Chapter 3

      Posted at 8:00 am by missannsays, on September 28, 2018

      No Surprises: navigating tragedy with faith, family and the FDNY

      Chapter 3 Manhattan, Meetings and Memorials (first draft)

      The Family Assistance Unit of the FDNY left a fifteen seat passenger van at my house in case we needed it. The firefighters had joked “take your girls to the mall in it.”  I don’t think so.On Friday September 28, we piled into that van to make the journey to the Brooklyn Naval Yard. The bridges still had military on them, traffic moved at a snail’s pace. When we arrived in Brooklyn, there was a huge dump truck blocking the entrance to a street that was no longer accessible. Am I in a foreign country? This is America!  At the Brooklyn Naval Yard, identifications were checked, and we were escorted to a party boat that looked sad. The boat was in fine shape but there were no flickering lights or people in party attire just us and another family that looked shell shocked. We were joined by FDNY, NYPD and Red Cross personnel. We were given a brown bag lunch that had been packed by school children and included drawings. The NYPD Chaplain visited each family and offered words of condolences and support. The Red Cross volunteer gave Emily and Meghan teddy bears and handed out little packets of tissues. I commented “Wow, Look the Red Cross has tissues with their logo. I guess they hand these out at all kinds of disasters.”  Okay that wasn’t a normal comment. Get it together. You can do this. You have to do this. Greater is He who is in you than He that is in the world.

      When we arrived at the marina in Manhattan, there was a row of identical small sailboats covered in a gray ash and pieces of white paper everywhere. The other family on our boat included a pregnant woman before disembarking she was given a paper mask. A plywood walkway lead to the site. We followed our escorts as Meghan walked with Christine, I walked with Emily, my sister Barbara had flown in from California and she walked with Christine’s husband.

      The gray ash covered everything and seemed to hang in the air. It was definitely a bizarre experience – not knowing where I was or even why I was here, being escorted by uniformed police officers and firefighters, the awareness that anyone wearing a hat removed it as we walked past, arriving at the viewing corner (Liberty and West Streets) and being handed a map marked “you are here.” There was the realization that no map could help you grasp where you were or what you were seeing. Heavy equipment – dump trucks, all forms of construction equipment. The smoke hung in the air as it rose from the pile. Twisted steel. Devastation. Suddenly it was too real for Meghan and she burst into tears. Christine brought Meghan to me and I gave Emily to Christine. I held my 14-year-old daughter and cried with her. I squeezed her tightly and tried to protect her from the reality, but I couldn’t.

      After a few minutes, the NYPD chaplain stated that he was going to read Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul. He guides me along the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.  Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

      Then he said “I am going to recite the Lord’s Prayer. You are welcome to join me.”

      I joined in “Our Father which art in heaven hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Leading us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.”

      “For thine is the kingdom…”  Oops! At this point I realized the chaplain had stopped. Oh, the Protestant and the Catholic versions of the Lord’s prayer end differently. Scripture was just read and spoken in the middle of the World Financial Center and no one said, “are we allowed to do that?”  My word will not return void. Thank you, Lord.

      We decided we wanted to visit Bruce’s firehouse in the Bronx. On a good day getting to the Bronx from Manhattan was an adventure but when you factored in we had to go back to Brooklyn via boat we were in for a long journey.

      “No problem, we will make it happen.” Said Aldo our Squad 41 escort. And he did.

      When we arrived at Squad 41 two official looking men in suits were just exiting their black town car.

      “Wait here. I will be right back.” said Aldo as he jumped out of the van.

      Timing is everything and this would be one of those times I realized my presence could suck the air out of a room or, so it seemed. The two suits were city officials who came to Squad 41, to learn about Bruce before they attended his service. Under normal circumstances these two men would have never been expected to represent the city at a funeral, but it was all hands-on deck. The shock of “running into” the widow and her children was visible on their faces. I felt bad. The visit was a great opportunity to thank everyone at Squad 41 for all they had done.

      Posted in daily life, faith, September 11 | 0 Comments
    • Chapter 3 continued…

      Posted at 8:00 am by missannsays, on September 23, 2018

      No Surprises: navigating tragedy with faith, family and the FDNY

      Chapter 3  Manhattan, Meetings and Memorials (first draft)

       

      Through the years, one of the discussions Bruce and I had was about funerals especially in light of being a Christian and the possibility of a line of duty death. We both agreed that if we truly believed what we said we believed then when one of us died it better be different. If we believed in eternal life than our life and death should reflect that belief. We disagreed on line of duty funerals. I felt the presence of the city officials and all of pomp and circumstance really had nothing to do with the deceased and/or their family. I felt it was impersonal and intrusive. Once after a rather heated discussion on that matter I had told Bruce “I don’t want the mayor at your funeral. He doesn’t even know you.”

      Bruce responded, “That’s your problem because I won’t be there. I’ll be dead.”

      In the past week or so, I experienced the power and strength of the “brotherhood” and even though I didn’t understand it I wanted to respect it. I wanted to do what Bruce as a firefighter would have wanted but I also wanted to do what was right for our family. My pastor, family and friends all had input about the service but the main voice I listened to was my own, Emily’s and Meghan’s. We decided a Saturday would be best – Saturday September 29. The location won’t be our home church as I didn’t want the girls remembering Daddy’s service every Sunday. Maranatha Church of the Nazarene in Paramus, New Jersey was more centrally located. Bruce and I were married at Maranatha when it was in New Milford before the move to the bigger location. Emily was the first baby dedicated in the new building so Maranatha offered a sense of home without being our home church.

      People were resuming their normal lives. We were slowly putting one foot in front of the other. Still living in the immediate – what needs to be accomplished today. Most days Emily and Meghan went to school. My home church set up a schedule for meals and an information source on the church website. Carol organized postponing the start of classes at the studio. I contacted the YWCA Childcare Center and Wyckoff Christian Preschool, where I also taught, to postpone starting until the first week of October. Christine and I tried to figure out what needed to be done for the service and life in general.

      Squad 41 was calling twice a day. Firefighters were still arriving on my doorstep. One afternoon the Captain from Squad 41 and a few of the firefighters came to the house. We all set round the kitchen table, drank coffee and they offered the assurance that they were doing their best to find “the guys.” Two firefighter friends, both named Jim, came one evening and shared stories which brought laughter from my girls. A welcomed sound.

      Pastor Steve suggested a worship folder for the Memorial service that would include the order of service, Bruce’s obituary, photos and messages from the girls and I to Bruce. We wanted the service to celebrate Bruce’s life and bring glory to God. We carefully choose the songs and readings. The girls and I discussed who we would like to participate.  Bruce’s mom pastor was invited to participate as well as other pastors and friends. Mom Van Hine supplied some childhood photos. We sorted through albums and boxes to find photos to tell Bruce’s life story not only as a firefighter but as a hiker, tree guy and most importantly as a son, brother, husband, father and friend.

      Instead of a guest book for people to register their attendance, we included a printed postcard with our address on one side and a place to share a memory or thought on the other. A basket to leave the postcards in is a good idea. What am I going to wear? What are the girls going to wear? Should we have a bag piper? What about a reception afterwards?  Cheesecake and coffee? Do I really have to do this?

      Posted in daily life, faith, September 11, work in progress | 0 Comments
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